The Tornado
by HyaHya
Summary: There was an empty cage, an empty space and an empty her. Directly following 2x13 "Chosen".


 _Synopsis: There was an empty cage, an empty space and an empty her. Directly following 2x13 "Chosen"._

There was an empty cage where her father should've been. Where she should've seen purple bars and heard his outraged cries there was nothing. Only the small device that should've been generating a UV cage. She retrieved the offending tech. It shattered into a thousand pieces when she hurled it against the wall.

Batteries. He'd escaped because of a dead batteries. Her chance at the throne ripped away by a defective piece of slayer weaponry! She wished she could throw it again, watch it shatter over and over again.

She couldn't take the Dracula name now. Not if the Count had survived.

Could she have killed him anyway?

Before today she probably couldn't have. She could've watched, as all of his valued vampire pals turned on him and eventually killed him. But not until today could she have staked him herself.

Not until she'd held Will's ashes in her hands, felt the granules slide between her fingers. Not until today. She couldn't have made her father burn.

Now it all had to burn.

Her father's ashes would feel good in her hands. But what to do about her brother? She turned her attention to him.

* * *

There was an empty space where her brother should've been. Dad must have taken him. Her brother was in no state to move on his own, they could all see and feel the death on him. Like a sheet of dust, the pale and blue clutches of death had been evident on his skin and his almost non-existent breaths.

Ingrid wouldn't be surprised if her little brother was dead. _Better this way_ she told herself, much better him being dead.

Because the second Vlad reopened his eyes within her presence then he'd have to die. He wouldn't be just her little brother anymore, a fail of a vampire who she'd free of the Dracula throne. No, he was competition now. It was doubtful it would even be her brother anymore if he survived. None of them knew the true nature of the power that had just surged through him. If he was the Chosen One, his vampire half would crush him.

It unsettled her that she felt cold at the thought of it. Obnoxiously bright Vlad, gone. One way or another.

She looked at the space where he should've been lying. Just the same dusty, unimportant patch of stone it had always been. There was no sign that he'd ever lain there. It felt like there should be. He was the Chosen One, he was Vlad! But he was gone before she could ever kill him and he'd left no trace.

Ingrid hoped he'd never wake up.

He didn't deserve this unlife. He didn't even want it!

Her cape swept the floor as she moved towards the spot. The crown had been thrown when he'd collapsed, it had rolled into a crack behind and upturned table. She retrieved it. For a second she thought about putting it on.

 _You could join Will, you could escape this now. Just put on the crown, either the power is yours or you're dead. You win – either way._

No!

The bone crown shuddered out of her hands and clicked against the floor.

No. This world didn't beat her. This world _burned_.

She stalked towards the throne. So what if Vlad had survived? She'd destroy him too. The soft cushion of the throne felt good. Sat on her father's pride and joy, sat in his castle with his precious possessions. Maybe she'd burn his coffin for the fun of it.

She put Vlad out of her mind. Her brother had died ten minutes ago, killed by his own bravery, killed by his destiny, killed by the slayers.

 _Just like Will… The slayers forced him to act. For you._ The walls whispered and she gave them her best glare.

Her brother need not be her concern.

Will he mattered, and because Will mattered revenge mattered. Not because she remembered her brother's deathly still form unbreathing on the floor. Not at all.

 _(Only a little.)  
_

* * *

There was an empty Ingrid where Will should've been.

Her little slice of love. Her only slice of love in the world. Now it was gone it had pulled almost all of her with it.

She felt like a ghost and a shell, storming and screaming around a castle that was already dead and didn't care. She felt like a hole. She felt like nothing. She felt like ash.

She felt empty.

She'd fill it with red mist. With blood so thick it forced itself into the air itself. She'd live in the red mist. Becasuse if that left her she'd have nothing.

No father, no brother, no lover, no mother.

Just Ingrid, the tornado, sat in the ruins of her home.

* * *

 _Just a quick one shot about Ingrid after the events of Chosen. She must have been left utterly alone, grieving and abandoned. I can't imagine how bad that must feel. :(_


End file.
